


Miss Independent

by Darkrivertempest



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Humor, F/M, Mild Language, Politics, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-30
Updated: 2013-02-16
Packaged: 2017-11-27 11:59:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/661763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkrivertempest/pseuds/Darkrivertempest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"In politics, if you want anything said, ask a man. If you want anything done, ask a woman."</i> ~ Margaret Thatcher</p><p>Hermione is the first female Minister for Magic. Lucius has always been a man who enjoys people in power. This is no exception.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [silverotter1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverotter1/gifts).



> Written for the lovely Silverotter1 in the Lucius/Hermione gift exchange 2010. 
> 
> Many thanks to my betas: Sotia, IBE and Mari!
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** All Harry Potter characters and canon Potter Verse belong to JK Rowling and associates. I am in no way affiliated with Warner Brothers, JK Rowling, or Scholastic. I do not make any money from the publishing or writing of this story.

“She doesn’t have a free slot for you today, I’m afraid.”

Lucius Malfoy stared down his patrician nose at the half-breed before him. “Mister Lupin, you may have a cushy job while Miss Granger is in power, but mark my words: it is only temporary.”

Remus arched a sandy eyebrow, rolling with the sudden change in topic. “You obviously don’t know her very well, do you?”

“I do not need to know her well,” the blond said snidely. “Women are all the same: grasping, desperate, emotional—traits that will ensure her tenure is brief.”

“Is that so?”

“I’ve seen nothing in her administration to prove otherwise.”

Crossing his arms, Remus leaned back to study Malfoy. “She’s only been in the position for two years. You know, of course, that it takes a great deal of time to accomplish anything of merit in politics.”

“A _week_ is a long time in politics,” Lucius returned with a smirk. “Perhaps we should give her such allowances of time to hang herself.”

Lips thinned, Remus nearly growled. “She’s trying to make our world a safer place! She always listens to both sides of every argument to keep things fair—”

Lucius snorted. “You know what happens to those who feint neither to the left nor the right in Quidditch, don’t you, Lupin? They get hit by the bludger.” 

“Still just as pompous and arrogant as—” 

“Remus? Could you file these documents under—” Hermione emerged from her inner chamber and stopped to stare at the two wizards in the midst of what looked to her to be a particularly heated exchange.

“Minister Granger,” Lucius intoned with a slight nod of his head. “I was just procuring an appointment with your...” He gave Lupin a dubious look. “Aide.”

“I prefer the term senior administrative assistant,” she corrected in a crisp tone. “And I can honestly tell you I’m booked past the holidays and up through to April.”

Hating the _I-told-you-so_ smirk Lupin directed at him, the Slytherin tried a different tactic. “Surely you need to eat at some point, no?”

She frowned. “What does that have to do with anything?” Shrugging on her formal robe, she handed Remus the files. “Make sure those reach Harry by Tuesday.” Without another word to either man, she left the outer office. 

Lucius stared at the door as it clicked shut, mouth slightly agape. “I do believe I’ve just been dismissed.”

“And you would be right in thinking so,” Remus concurred. “She barely has enough time to sleep, let alone stand here and bandy about with someone who she knows hates her and her political views.” He paused to slide the files into his leather satchel. “It’s the only way she’s been able to accomplish so much in so little time.”

“Such as the law allowing sentient beings to obtain employment within the Ministry?” Lucius remarked with a knowing glint shining in his eyes. “How fortuitous for you.”

Standing to tower over the blond, Remus clenched his teeth in an effort to retain some semblance of calm. “What. Do. You. Want, Malfoy?”

“Touchy,” the other purred. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think you had feelings for the chit.”

“Get out!”

“Not before I schedule an appointment.”

“Why? So that you can torment her? I won’t let you do it.”

Rubbing his gloved thumb over the new snake-head atop his cane, Lucius leaned in close and whispered, “I am on the Hogwarts Board of Governors, an acting regent for Gringotts, and head of my own company. Each of these things entitles me to an audience with the Minister whenever I see fit.” He brushed a speck of imaginary dust off his finely tailored robe. “Now, if you would, an appointment, please.” 

Regaining his composure, Remus blew out a pent up breath and sat back down to open the large tome before him. “When?” he snapped.

“Evening would be preferable—say around seven?”

“Why so late? She won’t even be here then.”

Stealing a sidelong glance inside Hermione’s inner office, Lucius noticed the piles of parchment and general chaos of her work area. “Are you sure?” he queried with a grin.

Remus followed his gaze. He was lying to Malfoy about the hours Hermione kept. In fact, he had frequently found her asleep at her desk, her head awkwardly placed on several stacks of paper, and often caught her wearing the clothes she’d been wearing the previous day. 

“Well?”

Glaring at Lucius, Remus pencilled him in for seven o’clock on Thursday evening. “She may kill us both for this little stunt, just so you know.”

Lucius scoffed. “Not me, dear wolf. I’d be missed.” Giving Remus a haughty smirk, he left.

~*~

“Good morning, Remus.” Hermione accompanied the greeting with a cheery smile the next morning. “What do you have for me today?”

Was it wrong of him to live for those moments when she was near? Possibly. Did it keep him from indulging in her sweet affection? Never. His feelings for her would forever remain hidden, but that didn’t stop him from being protective of her and her status within the community. 

A significant proportion of the Wizarding society had frowned upon her choice of assistant, but she was adamant that he was the best person for the job, so she had pushed through legislation which allowed werewolves and other sentient beings to obtain Ministry-regulated positions. He couldn’t have been more grateful. 

“There’s the Centaur summit at nine and a meeting with the Muggle group that represents Disney at three.”

She groaned. “I swear those Disney movies get closer and closer to actual fact. I think they have a Muggle-born or half-blood working for them.”

He chuckled. “Yes, Maleficent is just a female version of Voldemort, if you ask me.”

“I agree.” She flipped through several parchments, skimming through their contents before glancing back to her friend. “Did Lucius schedule an appointment?”

Giving her a weak smile, he nodded. “Thursday at seven o’clock.”

She chewed on her bottom lip, pondering the pure-blood’s motives. “What could he possibly want?”

“Hermione, most of the Wizarding world has tried for years to figure out what Lucius Malfoy wants at any given time, but to no avail. It could be anything—including you.”

“Me?” She laughed self-deprecatingly. “I’m Muggle-born, Minister for Magic, and a thorn in his billion Galleon backside.” She shook her head. “There’s no way Malfoy could possibly be interested in _me_ , except maybe for the power of my position.”

Unable to help himself, Remus cupped Hermione’s cheek and caressed it with his thumb. “Don’t underestimate yourself, love.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead and moved away, leaving her flustered.

~*~

Sipping his Matcha Japanese green tea, Lucius scanned the documents before him.

“Care to go to Rowlings tomorrow night?” Draco asked as he entered his father’s private study. 

“I’m wondering if we have in fact raised—to use Severus’ words—a dunderhead, if you can’t remember that I hate being disturbed while I’m—”

“Sorry,” the younger Malfoy said a little sheepishly. “I wanted to catch you while I could.”

Sighing heavily, Lucius pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry as well. Forgive me.” He gave his son a small smile. “It’s just the loss of your mother; it’s... ” He tapped his desktop for a moment to regain control of his emotions. “I don’t necessarily want to be here alone for long periods of time anymore.”

Draco came around the massive oak desk, leaned against it, and laid a hand on his father’s shoulder. “I know. It’s been hard without her.”

Lucius covered Draco’s hand with his own and squeezed. “She was a fine woman and an excellent mother. I miss her.” And he did miss her, but now the manse held nothing but silence since his son married last year, and so he’d decided he needed to re-establish his social activities if he were to avoid becoming a recluse, like Severus had.

Draco knew his father grieved for Narcissa, yet he also knew Lucius would never show an ounce of emotion, regardless of the tempest swirling within him. It had been three years since Draco’s mother had taken ill and died. Lucius blamed himself for not being able to save her, and Draco watched as his father grew more withdrawn over the years. Lucius’ leaving to visit the Minister the day before had been the first time in months that the patriarch had left the mansion. 

“Come with me to Rowlings,” Draco pleaded. He wanted to see if their old gaming hall held any lure to draw Lucius out of his self-imposed funk. 

“I can’t.” Letting go of his son’s hand, he stood and straightened his waist coat. “I have an appointment with the Minister tomorrow.”

“At night?”

“Precisely.” Lucius winked at him. “It’s the only time her guard dog won’t be around.”

Draco snorted. “It’s surreal, you know, Granger being Minister and all.”

“Yes, I know,” Lucius responded in a very long-suffering way. “Her policies and procedures are causing me an endless amount of headaches at both Gringotts and Hogwarts. I doubt she’ll be re-elected next term.”

“Why? The people love her.”

“Draco, politics is the art of obtaining votes from the poor and campaign funds from the rich by promising to protect each group from the other. Miss Granger lacks the finesse to cater to both, though she promises to do so. There’s a reason why there are so few female politicians: it’s too much trouble putting make-up on two faces.”

“Harsh.”

“No, true.” He draped his winter robes over his arm. “That’s why I’m meeting with her tomorrow night. I want to get an estimate of her future plans so that I may prepare accordingly.”

“She worked really hard in that election, Father. Maybe she’s earned her place.”

Lucius looked at Draco as though his son had lost his mind. “Don’t tell me you’re soft on the chit as well?”

“ _As well?_ Is there someone else that fancies her?” He put his hands to his mouth as soon as the words left his lips, realising what he had said.

“That lapdog of hers. Lupin. It’s disgustingly obvious,” Lucius said with a sneer.

A knowing smirk spread across Draco’s lips. “So that’s why she wanted employment rights for half-breeds.”

“Among other things.” Having slid on his black leather gloves, Lucius grabbed his cane. “Do keep Winky out of the library. You know how she likes to indulge in the liquor when she thinks no one is watching.”

“Where are you going?”

Lucius tapped his cane against his leg. “To make plans.”

~*~

Poking his head around the door to Hermione’s office, Remus asked for the fifth time, “Are you sure you’ll be all right?” 

“Yes, yes... I’ll be fine.” She made a shooing motion with her hand. Seeing that he still didn’t move, she gave her friend and employee a gentle smile. “I’ll have my wand with me at all times; I promise.”

“He’s slippery, Hermione. You know that.” Remus leaned against the doorframe. “You might be the brightest witch of your age, but Lucius Malfoy was the brightest wizard of his. There’s a reason Voldemort sought him out from the beginning.”

Narrowing her eyes and arching her brow, she asked, “Are you suggesting I don’t know how to take care of myself?”

“Of course not!” he scoffed.

“Then what exactly are you—”

“There’s always an ulterior motive where he’s concerned—one which you may not be aware of and, therefore, have no defence against.”

Sensing he was well and truly worried for her, Hermione rose from where she sat amid piles and piles of parchment and went over to the fidgeting wizard. “What is it you fear, Remus?”

“I just—”

“Ah, Minister Granger,” Lucius interrupted from the outer office doorway with a toothy grin. It instantly dropped when his attention turned to Remus. “Lupin.” He almost growled the name.

“Malfoy.”

They gave each other the once over before the blond tired of the werewolf’s posturing. He turned to Hermione, his voice sickly sweet as he spoke. “I believe I have an appointment?” 

“Hermione, I think I should stay and—”

Waving dismissively, she shook her head. “Remus, you need to go to Severus’ and pick up this week’s Wolfsbane potion. You know how he hates to be kept waiting.”

He grimaced at her reminder as well as at the fact that he had been dismissed. “You’re right, of course. Can’t afford a slip up, can I?”

She gave him a soft smile. “Not after all the hard work you’ve done.” Quickly turning to her briefcase, she rummaged through it until she pulled out a black, leather-bound tome, which she handed to him. “Would you mind giving this back to Severus when you see him? I borrowed it months ago and I’m surprised he hasn’t come knocking on my door wanting it back.”

“Neither a borrower nor a lender be,” Lucius quoted. 

Hermione’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “You know Shakespeare?”

“Quite competent for a Muggle, I must say.” Lucius gave Remus a pointed stare. “Give my regards to Severus, won’t you, Mister Lupin? I do miss his company.”

With that, he glided past Remus and into Hermione’s office, and firmly shut the door behind him.

Remus gripped the book tightly to his chest and resisted the urge to break the wooden barrier down and throttle the self-important pure-blood. After several moments of glaring, he glanced at the clock and groaned. “Severus is going to kill me,” he muttered to himself. He quickly Floo’d to the apothecary Snape owned and, as predicted, had his ears verbally boxed for being ten minutes late.

~*~

“That was rude,” Hermione said with reproach. “He was just being protective.”

“Over something he has no right to be,” Lucius informed her as he removed his black gloves, one finger at a time. 

“No right? Who are you to judge—”

“The wolf has feelings for you.” 

Her jaw almost hit the floor. “That’s not true! You’re imagining things.” That was what she wanted to believe, but inside she knew the truth of his accusation. She had known for a while now and still didn’t have the foggiest clue on how to dissuade the Order member. He was one of her dearest friends, but she had never thought of him on that level. 

Finally divested of the leather, Lucius cocked his head and studied her. “You’re a terrible liar. How ever did you manage to wind up in politics?” 

“I _didn’t_ lie,” she ground out through clenched teeth. “And for your information, I can lie with the best of them.”

Her unintended _double entendre_ perked his interest. “So, Minister Granger,” he purred silkily, slowly making his way towards her. “You _lie_ well, is that it?”

Frowning somewhat, she crossed her arms and held her ground. “If I have to.”

Lucius tsk’d at her. “No, if you’re going to lie it should be done for desire and with passion, not because you _need_ to. That just makes you seem cheap.”

“What are you—” Her lips thinned when she finally understood his meaning. “You’re as disgusting as Thestral dung. You know that?”

His devilish smirk was devastating. “I’ve been called far worse, my dear... and by my own family. You’re not trying hard enough.”

Too close. He was too close to her. Stepping back from his overpowering presence, she cleared her throat. “What was it you wished to discuss, Mister Malfoy?”

He pouted a little. “Such formalities, Miss Granger?”

“That’s _Minister_ Granger to you,” she shot back.

He moved quickly to crowd her against her desk, then leaned in until they were nose to nose. “You and I have known each other a long time, _Hermione_.” He gave a fleeting look to her plump lips and watched her nervous, pink tongue dart out to moisten them. “Too long to worry about such trivial things as titles.” Since she hadn’t backed away, he began to caress her cheek with his long, tapered fingers, enjoying the flush that crept across her skin and the brightening of her eyes. “Have dinner with me,” he said softly. 

She blinked. “What?”

He pulled away and straightened the lapels of his robe. “Have dinner with me,” he demanded again. 

“I-I have work to—”

“I realize you’re extremely busy, Miss Granger, and I recognise the demands placed on your time.” He held out his hand. “The strain it puts upon your personal life must be overwhelming.” Though he appeared sympathetic, it was too deeply rooted in his nature _not_ to be manipulative. “Mixing business with pleasure in an atmosphere that is both acceptable to you and will put you at ease is my only request for the moment.” 

Though he’d made light of her low birth and constant need to prove herself in the past, Lucius now recognized her as a powerful witch, made even more powerful by her position in Wizarding society. It would be foolish of him to think otherwise. And such power was intoxicating, especially for him. Nothing would bring a Malfoy greater satisfaction than to be associated with—or better yet, _own_ —all her power represented. His goal was simple: to seduce her. Make her his. Prove to her that even she had weaknesses that could be exposed. And he would start on them tonight.

“Pleasure?” she asked warily, then shook her head. “There is nothing we could discuss that I would find pleasurable.”

“Ah, but you must eat. Work will be here in the morning.” When she still refused to take his proffered hand, he rolled his eyes, and forcefully took her arm, gripping it tightly when she began to struggle. “Don’t worry; we’ll be dinning in a well-populated place, Minister. Think of this as positive press for your adoring public.”

“Unhand me, you loathsome—” 

He silenced her with a heady kiss which only ended when breathing became paramount. When he pulled back, what oxygen was still left in his lungs was stolen as he gazed upon her face. She was quite beautiful actually, not at all the gangly, awkward youth he had always known her as. Now, she possessed an allure some women tried all their lives to achieve. She also exuded a professional appearance; she had tamed her bird’s nest of tangled locks and dressed to show her womanly curves. Somewhere between the end of the war and the beginning of her campaign for Minister, Hermione Granger had grown up most magnificently. 

Slowly prying her eyes open, Hermione stared for several moments at the man still holding her in his grasp. “One dinner; that’s it.”

A wicked smile graced his lips. “We shall see.”

~*~

Dinner was... unexpectedly nice. 

Lucius had taken Hermione to a lovely Italian restaurant that specialised in family-style portions; each dish easily fed two people. Plus, it was crowded as he’d promised, and, though they raised some eyebrows at being seen together, they did not have to suffer paparazzi constantly pestering them about why they were there.

To be perfectly honest, she was surprised at his behaviour. Her expectation had been of an arrogant, snide, and all around unpleasant man. However, her preconceived notions about him were completely shattered once he began discussing current legislation; his wisdom about such things was quite apparent. In some ways, she felt unqualified for the position she held, though she had toiled to earn it through blood, sweat, and tears. 

In fact, the whole evening surpassed anything that she had been expecting. He was naturally charming, witty and well-spoken, and always seemed to say the right thing on a personal level. Leading them to their assigned table, he had disarmed her by feathering a barely-there kiss on her knuckles before sitting down next to her rather than across from her. A compliment here and there about her handling of a policy or procedure, along with his lingering gaze, kept her unbalanced throughout the entire exchange. By the time the evening came to an end, she was utterly baffled.

Especially now, as they stood before the door to her house. 

Biting her lip, an old habit of nervousness she’d never been able to shake, she squeezed Lucius’ arm. “Thank you for the lovely dinner and discussion. I will look over those proposals you suggested first thing in the morning.”

He covered her dainty fingers with his large ones. “It is a mark of great leadership to take advice from both sides, Hermione.” Leaning down, he brushed her cheek with his lips. “It is an even wiser leader who uses such advice to further their advantage.”

“I would nev—”

“Even if it, for instance, freed your precious house-elves?” he interrupted, refusing to let her go.

Damn it, he would have to latch onto her biggest cause that still hadn’t been resolved. “That’s different!”

Grasping her chin, he forced her to look at him. “No, it’s not different.” His eyes drank in her fear, allowing him to relish in the dark emotion once again. “You see only in shades of black and white, but this world is a thousand shades of grey.”

“I see all the colours,” she retorted sharply. “Including your black heart!”

To that, he smiled lasciviously. “You think you know the people?” He almost snorted at her naïveté. “There are no true friends in politics, not even your precious Lupin; we are all just sharks, circling, waiting for the first traces of blood to seep into the water.” 

“He would never betray me,” she said fervently, struggling to free herself from his grasp. 

“Oh, but he will, my little lioness.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “They all will.”

He Disapparated before she could slap him.

~*~

Remus placed a large, steaming cup of strong tea on the desk in front of her. “How was the appointment last night?” 

Hermione harrumphed and tunnelled her fingers through her hair. “That man is a slimy bastard.”

Unable to keep from chuckling, he patted the top of her head. “ _I_ could’ve told you that.”

“But he’s an intelligent slimy bastard,” she admitted reluctantly. Blowing out a pent-up breath, she turned her focus onto her assistant while Lucius’ words about betrayal flitted through her mind. 

“What are you saying?”

She bit the corner of her lower lip. “Nothing. Never mind. Would you please fetch me the Cottonwood proposal?” 

He raised his brows at the term but quickly disregarded her unintended slight. Instead, he did as she asked and ‘fetched’ the necessary documents. He intended to stay in her office in case she needed dictation, but that plan fell to the wayside with the sound of the outer door of the Minister’s chamber opening and closing.

“Ah, Lupin!” Lucius sported an overly cheery smile. “I wish to make an appointment.”

“You can’t be serious!”

“I agree. I can’t be. Mister Black had latent sexual tendencies whereas I prefer Playwitch,” the blond replied nonchalantly, inspecting his fingernails as he spoke.

It was like a sucker-punch to the stomach for Remus. All the memories of his best friend, his secret lover, washed over him and a sob rose in his throat. Swallowing his emotions, he snarled, “That was uncalled for.”

“Minister Granger, I daresay your employee is looking rather... animalistic these days.” Lucius turned his attention towards Hermione, who was now standing in the doorway glaring hard at him. “Are you sure he doesn’t shed on the carpet?”

Enraged, Remus lunged at Malfoy but was caught with an _Incarcerous_ by Hermione before he could reach his target. She gently moved his bound form to a corner and then whirled on Lucius.

“How dare you?” Unlike the previous evening, she succeeded in delivering a satisfying slap to his face. 

Clenching his jaw against the sting, Lucius inhaled deeply. “Physical assault of any Ministry employee is a punishable offense, Miss Granger. How ever will you explain your handprint on my cheek when I approach the Aurors about your behaviour?”

Her eyes widened in fear. “You wouldn’t...” 

“My, my,” he drawled. “Do I smell... blood in the water?”

“What do you want?” she asked in a hiss, eyes narrowed.

Glancing at his manicured nails, as if bored, he answered, “Oh, nothing much. Say, a position within your cabinet?”

She scoffed at the notion. “Nothing much? Why would _you_ want to be in _my_ cabinet? There are so many things that I’d expect someone like you would ask f—”

“In that case, I think I shall follow up with Auror Potter—wouldn’t you agree?” He smirked at her look of outrage. “I’m sure he would be very interested to know what his ‘best friend’ was doing behind locked doors.”

“I loathe you, Malfoy.” 

Moving to stand in front of her angry, trembling form, he caressed her cheek, his attitude in stark contrast to the previous few minutes. “No, you don’t... _Hermione_.” He brushed several stray curls away from her eyes while speaking softly. “You will love me for all I can give you—for offering you the Wizarding world on a silver platter.”

“You think that’s what I want?” she asked a little breathlessly, unable to break his thrall. 

“I know it.” Darting his gaze to the bound werewolf, currently looking as if he might gnaw his arm off so he could mangle him, Lucius placed his lips on Hermione’s, and savoured the exquisite feel of her soft, pert mouth. “Women are always attracted to power,” he murmured against her lips. “It was the reason Bellatrix would do anything for the Dark Lord.”

She drew back quickly. “I am _not_ her!”

“No, but you are a woman.”

“And that makes me what? Weaker?”

“You really have no idea of your own power, do you?” He tilted his head, examining her. “Being powerful is like being a lady. If you have to tell people you are, you aren’t.”

Trying to hide the blush from his underhanded compliment, she wiped her mouth with the back of her wrist. “I think you should leave now.”

“Aren’t we forgetting something?” He rubbed his thumb sensually over the polished silver snake head of his cane, delighting in the fact that she licked her lips while she watched him. 

“Be here at nine tomorrow morning,” she growled. “I am in need of a new financial consultant. How does that suit you?”

“Excellent!” he chirped. He flashed her that same false smile he had arrived with and bowed slightly. “I look forward to our... _working_ together.”

Once Malfoy left, she released Remus. “I’m sorry. He was baiting you intentionally.”

Shrugging off her proffered hand, he sneered at her. “I know that.”

Taken aback by his sudden aggressiveness, she moved away to allow him some breathing room. “Have you taken the—”

“I’ve taken the Wolfsbane potion like clockwork,” he bit out. “This has nothing to do with the time of the month. That man is up to no good!”

“I know.”

“Then why are you letting him control you?” he asked, exasperated.

She glared at Remus. “I’m not. He truly has some interesting ideas. He could be a great asset to this administration.”

“I can’t believe you’re even considering this.” He began pacing. “It’ll become just another regime, like Voldemort’s.”

“Stop right there,” she ordered sternly. “I am not, nor will I _ever_ be, like that megalomaniac and I’m hurt you would think that’s even possible.”

Halting his pacing in front of her, Remus had the grace to look ashamed. “Forgive me.” He took her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. “I-I’m just... worried.”

Uncomfortable with his actions, she withdrew her hand from his grasp, and patted him on the shoulder. “So am I,” she replied, though more to herself than him.


	2. Chapter 2

Straightening his cuffs, Lucius looked over his reflection in the mirror.

“Where are you off to?” Draco asked from behind him. 

Satisfied with his appearance, the older Malfoy turned and gave his son a smile. “I’ve obtained a position within the Minister’s cabinet.”

“Granger gave _you_ a job?” 

“More or less.” Lucius slipped into his robes. “I was rather... persuasive.” 

“I bet.” 

Lucius glanced at him. “You sound irritated.” 

Draco crossed his arms. “Let’s call a spade a spade, Father. You probably blackmailed your way in. Persuasion has nothing to do with it.”

Smirking at his son’s outrage, Lucius reached for his cane. “Call it what you will; it allowed me to gain entrance into her inner sanctum, and that’s where I plan to stay.” He narrowed his eyes. “Why are you so concerned about how I achieve my objectives? Is Astoria not fulfilling your requirements, that you are so interested in Miss Granger?”

“Astoria is just fine, thank you very much,” Draco ground out, advancing on his father. “But I don’t wish to see you in Azkaban again, and your meddling in the Minister’s affairs could lead to just that!”

“Calm yourself, boy.” Lucius noticed the tension in Draco’s stance and the worry creeping into his eyes. He surely hadn’t meant to cause his son any undue stress, but in order to remain on constant speaking terms with the Minister, he needed to finagle his way into her good graces. His plan had been to ply her with financial backing for whichever endeavour she wished, but her slap—and the threat of exposure for employee abuse—provided a much easier and more cost effective way for him to achieve his goal. “Once I make the Minister her first million, she’ll do anything I say... including keeping me out of Azkaban.”

Draco scowled. “You’re playing with fire. Literally.” 

A slow smirk spread across Lucius’ face. “All the better to feel the burn of passion.”

~*~

“Malfoy is here,” Remus said in a low tone to a busy Hermione.

Without looking up, she replied, “Show him in.”

Remus glared at the blond’s back as he followed him through to the inner chamber of the Minister’s suites. “I’ll be watching you,” he warned. 

“I was rather hoping you would be,” Lucius drawled and then, winking at him, shut the door in Remus’ gaping face.

“Lucius, if you’re going to work for me you’ll have to get used to the idea that Remus is not only my administrative aide, he’s also my friend,” Hermione pointed out, exasperated. “I won’t tolerate your insulting behaviour towards him.”

Malfoy sniffed. “I said nothing _insulting_ to the wolf. He threatened me, so I retaliated. End of story.”

She rolled her eyes. Dealing with those two was going to be a Herculean task. “Fine,” she said, waving her hand. “Here’s a contract negotiation, detailing fee rates for certain services we provide to the public sector. Look them over to see if they are reasonable.”

Delegated to menial work already? Lucius nodded slightly, though he had to control the sneer that threatened to take over. 

Ten minutes later, after he had studied the document, he came back over, sat in the chair in front of her desk, and flung the paperwork on top of the wooden expanse. “Your calculations are wrong.”

Baffled, she flipped through the file. “You’ve barely looked at this. And the calculations are _not_ wrong.”

“Miss Granger—”

“ _Minister_ Granger, Mister Malfoy.”

He acquiesced with a nod. “Minister Granger, there is a flaw in the theorem for subsection two, article nine. You’re losing money where you should be making it.”

She turned over the pages until she reached the section he had indicated, and scanned through the text. “I don’t see—”

“Allow me to show you.” He stood, walked around to where she sat behind her desk, and leaned over her shoulder. Using his wand, he shifted the Arithmancy model until it aligned properly and produced the desired calculation. “There, you see? Now instead of losing a thousand Galleons a month, you’ll be adding thirty-five hundred to your coffers.”

Her mouth hung slack. “How...” She read the theorem again until she could see the mistake. Remus. She mentally groaned. Normally she worked the Arithmancy models, but she had let him do it for this contract, as she had been too busy with another, more important one at the time. Trusting his previous work, she had immediately submitted the contract for implementation. When the money she thought was supposed to be made with the account didn’t even make the bottom line, she’d pulled it for renegotiation. Now she knew what the problem had been.

“Thank you,” she admitted quietly, a little unnerved that he still stood so close. “I’ll send this to Provider Relations, so they can update their files.”

He smiled, though she didn’t see it. The flaw had been easy to spot, and had made him wonder why she hadn’t found it before. Glancing at her cluttered desk, he gathered her busy lifestyle had much to do with it. Making a snap decision to take another chance, he bent low and grazed her cheek with his nose. “Have dinner with me again.”

Oh, why did he have to do that? He had been cordial, his interacting with Remus notwithstanding, and he had just made her an impressive amount of money in the first hour he’d been her financial aide. Why did he have to whisper such things in her ear?

Shifting away, she glared at him. “I’ll ask you to remain professional, Mister Malfoy.”

“Lucius, please.” He followed her retreat.

“ _Mister_ Malfoy,” she grated. “If you don’t keep your distance, I don’t care what kind of deal we have, I _will_ report you to the Aurors for sexual harassment.”

“Really?” He gave her a predatory smile. “How will it look when I show them the memories of the kisses we’ve exchanged, hmm? I don’t think they’ll be inclined to believe you.”

Her lips thinned, and she blushed scarlet. “You are a complete bastard, you know that?”

“For asking you to dinner?” He looked at her derisively. “No wonder you’re still single.”

That hurt. Her pride, her ego... her heart. She’d tried to make a go of it with Ron right after the war, but they were too different; they wanted too many different things from life. Ron was now married to Susan Bones. They had two lovely children, and Hermione couldn’t begrudge him a single moment of happiness. Harry had married Ginny soon after the end of the war and they had two strapping boys with another little one on the way. But Hermione? Though she had casually dated in her early twenties, she now only met with wizards during business functions, soirees, or grand balls. Not exactly conducive to meeting a potential mate, especially when she was considered the most powerful woman in the Wizarding world.

She schooled her features. “Yes, I’m single. You know why? Because I don’t have the time to deal with men who feel insecure regarding my job and have even less patience to deal with power-hungry idiots like you!”

He leaned in close. “I have more power in my smallest finger than you will _ever_ have in the full of your term. Do _not_ mistake me for some power-hungry fop who is going to fumble for your affections. I simply asked you to dinner.” He leered at her. “Though I can now see that spending time in my company is distasteful to you. Pity, I had thought you would enjoy a nice dinner and decent conversation.”

With a snort, she stood and looked him in the eye. “I’ve had plenty of dinners with good conversationalists.”

“Name one.”

“Severus Snape,” she returned quickly. “He’s been extremely helpful and—”

“No offense, but he’s not inclined towards you,” Lucius cut her off. “Though he has a talent for witty repartee,” he conceded begrudgingly.

“Not inclined towards me? Because I’m a Mudblood?” 

He frowned. “Blood purity is the last thing that Severus is concerned with. You should know that.” Daringly, he reached out to graze the back of his knuckles along the slim line of her jaw. “It is the last thing I am concerned with as well.”

“I don’t believe you,” she whispered and stepped away from his touch. “The Lucius Malfoy I know based everything he was on the standing of blood purity. I doubt fifteen years have made a difference in a lifetime of hate.”

“Then you know a ghost,” he hissed. He clutched her arm when she tried to escape his presence. “That man...” He swallowed thickly. “That part of me died long before Potter met Voldemort during the final battle,” he admitted. “And as for myself, I am truly sorry for the distress I have caused you.”

“Distress?” she cried. “I was tortured on your parlour floor, while you stood there and watched!”

“I had a part to play,” he countered. “Had I not done so, you and your precious Potter would be dead now, along with my own family!” 

“Ever the consummate actor. Was that it, Lucius?” she spat back. “Funny how the rest of us never went home when the show was over.”

His eyes widened, and he relaxed his grip, though he didn’t let go. “I can only apologize so much before it becomes insincere.”

“Then we are in agreement on one thing,” she said before moving away to a large cabinet. She opened it and extracted several hefty files. She carried them back to where he stood and shoved them into his chest. “Here. Do your job.”

Wrapping his arm around the cases she thrust at him, lest they fall, he watched as she sat once more, perused a parchment that lay atop a sizable pile, and ignored him. “Do I have an office?” he asked quietly. 

“What?” she asked more harshly than she intended. Shaking her head, she muttered, “Erm, not at the moment. I’ll find one for you before tomorrow, though.” 

“Am I to be resigned to the escritoire until then?”

Blowing out a pent up breath, she sent him a look that wavered between pity and irritation. “I know it’s small and not what you’re used—”

“It’s fine,” he said quickly. Removing himself, he made his way to the roll-top desk and laid the files on top. Braving a side-long glance at Hermione, he noticed the tight grip on her quill, the forced scratching of the nib, the miniscule tremor of her body. Though his intent was to seduce the woman, he found himself respecting her for more than just her power, and suddenly felt compelled to smooth things over. Walking back to stand in front of her, he said, “I do wish you’d reconsider and join me for dinner.”

“You never give up, do you?” She threw down her quill and looked up at him, only to pause. His gaze was genuinely concerned and it threw her off-balance. “Why?”

“The obvious reason is we both need to eat.”

“And the unobvious?”

He gave her a breathtaking smile. “Severus is not as beautiful to look at.”

Red tinged her cheeks at his insinuation. “Oh, I’m sure he has his merits. For example, his hair is now much longer and silkier.”

Lucius arched a brow. “And how do you know this?”

Unable to prevent the small chuckle that left her mouth, she said, “One of the first things Severus marketed was a line of products designed to help unmanageable hair. I was his guinea pig, of sorts.” She ran a hand through her wavy locks. “His _Perfect Coif_ serum is a godsend.”

The more she stroked her curls, the tighter his trousers felt, his erection burgeoning with every strand that flitted over her fingers. “Yes, well...” He cleared his throat. “Tonight at seven, then?”

“I didn’t say yes, Lucius.”

“You didn’t say no, either,” he quickly pointed out.

Sighing heavily, she nodded. “One dinner.”

He smirked. “You said that the last time.”

“Damn it, do you want me to go or not?”

“Oh, I do so love it when you swear,” he purred. His smirk turned wicked. “I wonder what else you can do with that sharp tongue of yours.”

“Lucius...” she warned, though not sternly. 

He laughed in spite of himself. “Don’t worry, I’ll behave.” 

For now.

~*~

So began a series of business dinners wherein Hermione and Lucius discussed the day-to-day workings of the Ministry, argued political stances, and decided how funds should be applied or where they’d be most beneficial. Occasionally, they would leave straight from work, but she noticed after a few weeks that she managed to go home more often than she used to before Lucius had entered her life. 

They always dined in public, and he would bow upon greeting her at her doorstep. After he bowed, he would take her small hand in his wide, strong one and bestow a kiss to her knuckles. It really shouldn’t have sent shivers up her spine like it did.

As time progressed, the kisses to her hand became lingering, and she swore, at one point, she felt his lips part, the moisture of his mouth and the heat of his breath caressing her senses, shooting straight to coil tightly in her belly with need. Of course, she tried to rationalise her body’s responses, or ignore them altogether, which only served to wreak havoc upon her still very healthy libido. She truly couldn’t help that she found him so very appealing, intellectually as well as physically. 

It soon became obvious he no longer cared about blood status. This had become most apparent during their last dinner, when he’d taken her to a French restaurant that was frequented by pure-bloods. They’d drawn quite a bit of unwanted attention, but he had insisted that the _foie gras_ glazed with fig gelée was excellent and had been adamant that they stayed. While sipping their Perrier Jouet Fleur De Champagne, circa nineteen ninety-eight, an old associate of Lucius’ had approached their table.

_“Lucius, darling!” the stunning blonde cooed. “So good to see you again.”_

_Though he rose to greet her, he did so only perfunctorily, shaking her hand with a slight nod. “Catherine.”_

_The blonde’s smile faltered somewhat before she turned to glance at Hermione. “Wining and dining, I see?” She had a calculating look about her._

_So did Lucius. “Catherine, this is Hermione Granger, Minister for Magic,” he intoned._

_The blonde’s eyes widened and a wicked smile spread across her face. “Oh, I see... mixing business with pleasure!” Batting her eyelashes, Catherine leaned across the table to Hermione and whispered conspicuously, “Make sure he shows you the swing.”_

_Hermione arched a brow in contempt. “Whatever ‘instruments’ Mister Malfoy has in his possession are of no concern to me, Madam.”_

_“Catherine,” Lucius hissed, prying her clutching hand from his arm, “you’re drunk.” He shoved her away. “Shall I have Avery come and collect you?”_

_She pouted. “I’d rather you collected me, lover.”_

_Lucius’ jaw squared in annoyance. “I think your glamour is fading, Catherine... I can see your crow’s feet.”_

_An audible crack filled the air when her hand met his jaw. “Bastard!” she shouted so loudly that the whole restaurant became silent. “You think because you’re fucking the Minister for Magic, you can do or say whatever you want? Where’s your loyalty?” she shrilled._

_Motioning with his eyes to the manager of the establishment that this particular patron needed to be removed, Lucius stepped away from her before he did some serious damage. “My loyalty remains where it always has,” he told her while glancing at Hermione. “With my heart.” He returned his attention to the irritated woman before him. “Your idea of fidelity is not having more than one man in bed at the same time.”_

_Hermione couldn’t help herself; she snorted with laughter. This incensed Catherine to the point that she threw a curse at the Minister. For a brief moment, Hermione was once more staring into the insane face of Bellatrix Lestrange, awaiting the Cruciatus curse, but then Lucius stepped in the path of the spell, taking the full brunt of the stinging hex._

_“Lucius!” Hermione cried. She jumped from her seat and caught his sagging form before he hit the floor in pain._

_What followed was somewhat surreal. Hermione alerted the Aurors, who were always near-by in case of emergencies, with a non-verbal spell issued when Catherine first became belligerent. They arrived just before she could fire off another one, restrained the bitter woman, and dragged her off for questioning and detainment. Harry just happened to be in the area when the alert was issued, and stayed behind after the others had left._

_“You okay, Hermione?” He had always thought of her as his best friend, not the Minister for Magic._

_Patting a cool cloth on the rash spreading over Lucius’ skin, she sighed. “Yes, I’m fine.” She had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing at the sight the blond provided. “Though Lucius could use some salve to help with the welts.”_

_“I have an ample supply at home, thank you.” The man in question shrugged off her ministrations to stand and pull on his robe. “If you don’t mind, I’ll see you home and then bid you a good night.”_

_Disappointment clouded her eyes, but she nodded. “Of course.” She hugged Harry and said she’d be in touch with him the next day._

_Apparating to the entryway of her sizable house, she was loath to let go of Lucius. “I want to thank you,” she said softly._

_“There’s no need. She was clearly out of line.” He rolled a shoulder, wincing in pain. “I was doing my duty by protecting you.”_

_Hermione swallowed past the knot in her throat. “Oh, I see.” His duty. The business dinners were really just that: business. Inhaling deeply, she closed her eyes to bury her tender emotions behind a wall before opening them again. “You may have leave for the rest of the week,” she informed him in a neutral tone._

_He narrowed his eyes at her. “Why? Did I act unaccordingly? Did I step out of line?” His irritation was growing. “Or do you want your precious Lupin to mangle what I’ve done?”_

_Frowning, she shook her head. “What are you talking about? I was giving you the time off to heal, you suspicious git!”_

_“No,” he barked._

_“No?” Hands on her hips, she matched him in intensity. “I’m your boss, for lack of a better term, and I say you need to take some time off.”_

_“I refuse to be away from you.”_

_“What?”_

_“I don’t believe you’re deaf,” he answered snidely. “I won’t be away from you.”_

_She rubbed her temple, exasperated. “Lucius, it’s Wednesday. I’ll see you again on Monday. It’s not that long.”_

_His face instantly softened. “It is to me,” he whispered._

_Worry creased her brow. “Tell me what’s wrong.”_

_He blinked rapidly to recover himself. “Nothing.” He looked askance. “I’ll see you on Monday, then.” Before she could say another word, he Disapparated away._

It was now Monday morning, and she anxiously worried her bottom lip. He was late. Lucius Malfoy was _never_ late.

“You okay?” Remus asked as he poked his head in her office. 

Shaking herself out of her reverie, she nodded. “Fine. A little tired, perhaps.”

“Busy weekend?” Setting her usual large mug of tea in front of her, he sunk down into one of the chairs facing her desk. “Malfoy isn’t here yet.”

Maybe it was his tone or the insinuation that accompanied it, but all she knew was that her ire grew the more Remus sat there. “I gave him leave, remember?”

“Oh, yes... that’s right.” He took a sip of his own tea. “I was hoping _his Lordship_ had finally given up and decided this game was not to his liking.”

“Well, you’d be wrong,” said Lordship growled from the doorway. 

Hermione had to stifle a snort when Remus spilled his hot tea all over his groin. 

“Bloody hell!” Lupin yelped. He murmured a quick _Evanesco_ for the mess and turned to Malfoy. “You’re late.”

Lucius glanced at Hermione. “My apologies. I had an investment meeting that ran longer than expected.”

“It’s okay.” She stacked a folder atop the ever growing pile in front of her. “You really don’t have any set schedule. You’re more of a consultant.”

Remus smirked at the look of discontent on Lucius’ face. “I’ll prepare your schedule for today, Hermione.” He left, firing a knowing smile at the blond.

Once the door clicked shut, Lucius approached her desk. “A consultant?”

She looked up at his tone. “Well, yes. I mean, you’re already on the Board of Governors. You have more money that Midas and you have the ear of the Goblins at Gringotts. Why do you need another full-time position?”

“This has all been temporary?”

Steeling her reserve, she glared at him. “You blackmailed your way into this office, Lucius. How permanent did you think I’d let it become? Besides, I’ve given Harry a full statement along with several Pensieve memories as corroboration to what happened on that day. He thinks you were a right git about the whole thing, but mostly made up for it when you blocked the spell aimed at me.” She inclined her head. “My thanks for that.”

Lucius flinched slightly before his spine stiffened in recognition of her attitude. “I see.” Raising his chin a notch, he looked down on her imperiously. “Well since you only wish to consult with me, _Minister_ , I’ll be leaving now. Do Floo if you need someone who knows how to make you money.”

The way he said ‘Minister’ sounded almost hateful to her ears, and her soft heart couldn’t allow him to leave like that. “Wait! Where are you going?”

“I have other pressing matters, ones that actually require my attention.” He opened the door, but it was slammed shut before he could make his exit. 

Hermione’s eyes were alight with fire and indignation as she strode over to him. “ _I_ require your attention.”

He scoffed. “You require nothing more than a stiff shag to remove the wand that’s lodged in your arse.”

At least this time it was Lucius’ other cheek that received the slap. “How dare you?”

“How dare I, Madam?” He swiftly cornered her against one of her bookshelves, his powerful arms blocking any escape, even as he left no space between their bodies. “I’m not the one who can’t make up their mind about what they want,” he chided with a menacing sneer.

“What are you talking about?” she rasped. Her mind spun wildly while his frame was pressed flush with hers, feeling wonderful yet frightening at the same time.

Taking up his cane, he caressed the slope of her neck with its smooth, cold, serpentine head. “You possess unparalleled intelligence, exceptional natural magical talent, and have even acquired the most powerful position in our world.” He spun the ornament so that the snake’s fangs grazed her ear lobe, eliciting a gasp from her. “But what you really want—nay, what you really _need_ , is to be loved for your own merit and to be completely possessed by that love.” 

Dropping the cane to the floor, he deftly pulled the glove off his right hand with his teeth. He reached downwards until he was able to grab the side of her pencil skirt and bunch it in his fist, his voice turning the red shade of pure seduction as he poured it into her ear. “Stripped bare of all but the very essence, the precious fragility of your femininity,” he drew out in a throaty purr. Tugging the fabric higher, he relished the feel of her soft skin beneath his searching palm. “All your deepest desires lying there, raw and exposed, ripe for the taking by a wizard who is capable—no, not capable— _worthy_ , of worshiping you as you deserve.” 

When he reached her hip, he dipped his fingers past her knickers to cup her arse. “To give you the _one_ thing you cannot attain on your own for all your brilliance.” Squeezing her full bottom, he pulled her leg high until it was wrapped around his hip. With his mouth hovering just over hers, he whispered, “You and I both know... that wizard is _me_.”

He pressed his lips to hers, and she responded feverishly as if she’d been waiting a lifetime for that very moment. His lips moved against hers with hunger, yearning and tasting, shaping her pouty mouth to his, their tongues meshed in a duel that left them both breathless. Panting, Lucius wasted no time in lifting her other leg to drape around him, so he could thrust against the apex of her thighs.

“Gods, you’re so warm,” he breathed against her neck. He skilfully moved the silky fabric of her knickers aside and traced her swollen labia, his fingers soon coated with her wetness. 

“Yes,” she hissed, moving into his questing fingers. “Touch me.”

“I’ll do more than touch you, love,” he assured her. “I’ll give you what you so desperately need.” He bit down on the crux of her shoulder and had her clawing at his back. “Give yourself to me.”

She arched her hips in answer to his demand. “Anything. Just make this ache go away.”

Ripping the flimsy material protecting her sodden quim, he pulled down his zip to let his hardened length free. “Hermione, look at me,” he commanded, aligning his tip at her entrance.

“I want this,” she pleaded. She placed a gentle hand to his face and brushed her thumb over his cheek.

Her action nearly undid him. Pressing the thick head of his cock inside her wet core, he pulled her to him before he thrust home. Both of them gasped from the impact. Leaning his forehead against hers, he grunted, “Hold on.”

She tightened her legs around his waist and followed suit with her arms around his neck.

Uncaring that he’d leave bruises upon her flawless skin, he gripped her hips hard and drove into her welcoming depths, her back repetitively hitting the shelf behind her with a dull thud. “ _Muffliato_ ,” he muttered, never breaking his pace. It wouldn’t do to have the nosey wolf banging down the door in a poor attempt to _rescue_ her. 

When she laid her cheek against his and panted, “More,” in his ear, he immediately began pistoning into her faster, his bollocks slapping her nether lips with a delicious pain that urged him to pound even more furiously into her. 

He nearly lost his gait when she bit down on his earlobe. “Hungry?” he asked hoarsely. 

“For you,” she panted, angling her hips for deeper penetration. 

“Gods, witch, how I’ve wanted this,” he admitted, before sinking his shaft deep inside her once more. “Come for me, Hermione.”

His thrusting, combined with his plea, sent her over the edge and into the abyss. “Lucius!” she screamed, burying her face in his neck.

Her grasping core pulled at him, and he soon joined her, shouting his completion to the rafters and flooding her with his seed. Held securely within each other’s embrace, they panted, their chests heaving in the aftermath.

“Don’t go,” she whispered, unwilling to move.

“Never, love,” he promised and kissed her forehead.

Outside, several objects and a couple of chairs lay in shambles, courtesy of Remus, who had heard nothing, but smelled _everything_.


	3. Chapter 3

Lucius brushed a loose curl away from her face. “Have dinner with me tonight.” He nuzzled her scarlet cheek, delighting in the slow smile he could feel coming from her. 

“Is this going to become a regular thing?” she whispered.

He pulled back and gazed into her eyes searchingly. “Do you want it to be?”

She bit her lip—an action he was coming to find adorable—and looked away. “Maybe?”

Cupping her jaw, he brought her focus back to him and smoothed the tension lines that always seemed to be present on her face. “Do you regret what just happened?” He still had his arms wrapped around her waist, and her legs were locked around his. “Because I certainly do not.”

Caring for her hadn’t been part of his plan; he’d only wanted to seduce her and find her weaknesses. But now, watching her eyes swim in uncertainty, he felt a tug in the region of his body where his heart used to lie. He actually found himself hoping she would continue having dinner with him; it was their middle ground where they could talk and socialise. And while he knew she had weaknesses he was able to exploit, he no longer had any wish to do so. 

Here was a woman, who at the tender age of thirty had become the youngest Minister for Magic, as well as the only female to have ever filled that position—a feat twice over. He knew he had taunted Lupin about her being unqualified for the position in the beginning, but deep down he had known if there were ever to be a female Minister for Magic, it would be Miss Hermione Granger. Her sweeping policy changes challenged everyone, including himself. Taking over from Kingsley Shacklebolt had been no easy task, and even fifteen years later there were still some issues from that dark period that had yet to be settled. Was it pride that dwelled inside him when he found he was eager to see if she could truly change their world? He did not want their relationship to end, not by a long shot.

“You don’t?”

He pressed a kiss to her brow. “I want to continue seeing you.”

A flicker of relief flashed across her face before she nodded. “I’d like that, too.” She glanced behind her and winced at the books lying lopsided on the shelves. “But no more shagging in my office.”

He slowly slid her legs down from around his waist, straightened her skirt, and spelled away the wrinkles that had bunched the fabric. “Not even the odd lunch meeting, perchance?” he asked with a pout as he tucked himself away. 

She laughed in spite of herself. “No.” She slipped on the mid-heel pump she’d dropped during their impromptu shag and brushed herself off. “This is the Ministry and...” Her eyes went wide as she glanced to the entryway in alarm. “Remus!” she hissed.

Lucius held up his hand to forestall the imminent panic. “I cast a Silencing Charm before we became vocal.”

Groaning, she thumped her head against the wall. “It doesn’t matter... he must have sensed everything, anyway.”

A sneer inched its way across Lucius’ face. “Then it serves him right. Eavesdropping on others only ever gets you one thing: details. Inevitably ones you don’t want to know.”

She shot him a dirty look. “I’m really not into hurting those I care about, Lucius.” Miffed with his callous attitude, she smoothed out her tresses and opened the door, only to find the outer office empty. 

He looked over her shoulder when she remained in the doorway. “Perhaps he went to the Wizarding vet to get a check-up?” That remark earned him an elbow to the solar-plexus. “ _Oof_!”

“Shut it, Malfoy.” Worrying her bottom lip, she looked over the calendar lying open on Lupin’s desk. “There are no prior engagements for either of us at the moment.” 

Coming up behind her, Lucius wrapped his arms around his witch. “How fortunate I was able to pencil myself in.” 

Though he didn’t see it, she rolled her eyes. “Lucius, behave.” She shook off his embrace and turned to face him. “I meant what I said. This is the Ministry and they are always trying to find new ways to discredit me. I really have to toe the line right now.” Her eyes softened when the typical pout settled upon his lips. “Even with you.”

Sniffing in disdain, he notched up his chin. “I mean nothing to you.”

“You are such a drama queen.”

“King,” he corrected. At least she got half of it right.

She snorted. “Whatever.” She walked back to her office, grabbed her robe, and slipped it on. “I need to visit Arthur Weasley for about an hour and then—” She was silenced when Lucius’ lips pressed against hers.

When they both needed to breathe, he stepped back and flashed her a smile. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”

~*~

“Why are you here?” Severus growled from behind the counter where he was currently brewing.

“I want to know why Lucius Malfoy is pursuing Minister Granger,” Remus demanded. 

This was news to Snape. “On whose authority do you make such wild accusations?” he drawled.

“My own.” Lupin fumed. “I just came from—”

“Lower your voice, you imbecile!” The Potions Master scowled at the wolf.

Remus glanced to both sides and at least had the grace to look ashamed. “Sorry.” He moved closer to Snape. “I just left her office where they were quite obliviously in _flagrante delicto_!” he whispered harshly.

Snape arched a brow. “Oh, really?” He stroked his jaw with his thumb, in contemplation, as a wicked smile slowly made its appearance. “Do they know that you...”

Once again Lupin looked shame-faced. “I sort of demolished the outer office.”

“Sort of?”

“I _Reparo’d_ everything before I left.” Remus ran his shaking hands through his hair. “They were still at it when—”

“Spare me the details,” Snape said drolly. He studied his old foe carefully. “When was the last time you slept?”

“Since the last full moon?” Lupin’s eyes darted up and to the right, as he tried to recall. “Maybe a few nights here and there.”

Severus grabbed the werewolf’s arm and hauled him into the dark brewing lab attached to the apothecary. “You mean to tell me that, knowing your ingrained territorial behaviour is highest when the moon is waxing gibbous and culminated when full, you wilfully put yourself near Minister Granger while Malfoy was courting her?” He shook the other man for good measure. “Are you mad? Or do you enjoy contemplating Black’s old cell? Because that’s where you’ll end up if you happen upon them in the next week.”

Remus paled, remembering something he hadn’t accounted for. “Merlin,” he breathed. “It’s January!”

Not giving him any choice, Snape dragged the wolf out the back door and down a set of long, deep stone steps. At the bottom, he unlocked an iron gate and pulled the other wizard after him into the dank cavern.

“This should be safe enough.” Snape muttered a _Lumos_ , and a soft, pulsing bluish light illuminated a small room complete with bed, wash basin, and bookshelf.

Severus pushed Lupin backwards with a hand on the wolf’s chest, until the other wizard sat on the bed, still somewhat in shock. “Open your mouth,” Severus demanded.   
Remus did as ordered and frowned when a look of dread filled Snape’s eyes. “What?”

“Move your tongue to the side.” Again the werewolf complied. “Damn it, did you ever pay any attention in Care of Magical Creatures?” Severus snarled.

“I’m surprised _you_ did,” Remus accused. “You were usually too busy with Potions.”

Sneering, the dour Potions master turned and scanned the books on the shelf. Finally having selected one, he began flipping through the pages until he found the section he wanted, read it, and then turned to look at Lupin. “How long have you had the purple blotches?”

“About one and a half weeks now,” Remus muttered. He knew the text that Snape was reading detailed the one time of the year that hindered him most.

The text described the onset of mating season for werewolves, which occurred around the beginning of winter and coincided with the appearance of a purplish discolouration on the tongue of virile males. Anything—be it male or female, and regardless if it were werewolf, human, or other—would be a prime target for rutting. Lupin was thankful it happened only once a year, but he had been lax in remembering it this time around. In past years, he would schedule two months off and have a temp work in his stead. With Malfoy hanging about, however, he had become completely sidetracked, and his baser instincts had kicked into overdrive. No wonder, besides the natural affection he felt for Hermione, he was going a bit off the deep end around her.

“I’ll send a note to Minister Granger, regarding your status for the time being,” Severus informed Lupin. He snapped the book closed and headed for the door. “You may stay here until your... _urges_ lessen.” He then exited and locked the heavy gate.

Scanning the craggy walls, Remus had to wonder just how long he could stand to look at them before even Snape started to look good.

~*~

The dizzy feeling spreading throughout Hermione’s body refused to go away. How could he, Lucius-ex-Death-Eater-peacock-Malfoy, do this to her? She wanted to scold him, tell him everything they had just done had been inappropriate in the highest sense of the word. One look at him and his disarming smile, however, had her confused and off-balance. Was this how he had been able to accomplish so much while following the Dark Lord? Hermione knew a person could lure more flies with honey than vinegar, and perhaps so did he... all too well. 

Listening to Arthur drone on about his latest experiments with Muggle toasters, she resolved to steel her heart towards Lucius Malfoy. Whether it listened or not was an entirely different matter.

A memo landed in Hermione’s hair, just as she was leaving Arthur’s office three hours later. She retrieved it and, immediately recognising Snape’s narrow, stiff penmanship, read the missive with dawning comprehension. Normally, she was ever-vigilant about Remus’ _condition_ and his increasing erratic behaviour due to the onset of mating season, which only proved that Lucius was distracting her... and not in a good way. She should have remembered! 

Determined to speak to Lucius about their relationship, she crumpled the parchment and made her way back to her office, only to find the younger Malfoy about to knock on her door. “Draco,” she greeted cordially. 

He gave her a slight nod of his head. “Minister Granger.” 

It took a conscious effort not to laugh at him, knowing it had to aggravate both Malfoys to no end that they had to defer to her now. Of the two blonds, Draco was more cordial by far, especially after getting married to Astoria Greengrass. Lucius was, well... still Lucius, even with the pure-blood supremacy toned down. 

“What brings you here? Collecting your father?” 

Draco nodded, giving her the trademark Malfoy smirk. “Gringotts is having a boardmeeting at two, and his presence is required.” 

She opened the door and preceded him into the antechamber, where Lucius was noting figures on the Mariketa file. “Your progeny is here,” she announced. 

“Not now, dearest, I’m right in the middle of a taxing calculation,” Lucius muttered, not even glancing upwards. 

Draco’s brows rose into his hairline. He leaned over and whispered in Hermione’s ear, “He only did that with my mother.” He took a second to size her up. “Just what have you done to my father?”

“What do you mean? I’ve done nothing!” she hissed. 

“Then why is he acting like this?” 

“Like what?” She nearly growled the question in exasperation. 

“Like... like he’s domesticated!” 

With a snort, she muttered, “If your father is domesticated, then I’m Ron’s wife.”

“Love, be a dear and fill this with Ogden’s, would you?” Lucius held up a crystal tumbler for her to take, still never raising his eyes to the pair staring at him.

Draco nudged her shoulder. “I think you’d better change your name to Weasley.”

Hermione shoved him back. “Not likely.” Plucking the glass out of Lucius’ hand, she cleared her throat before saying, “Lucius, would you like one dram or two?”

The scratching of the nib on parchment continued. “Three, actually.”

“At least we’re in agreement.” She cast three charms his way: one to singe his fingers, one to frizz his normally silky locks, and, finally, one to throw him out of Remus’ chair. 

“Bloody hell, witch!” Lucius sat stunned on his backside in a corner of the office, glaring between his son standing there in hysterics and an extremely brassed-off Minister.

“First of all, Malfoy,” Hermione spat, “I am not your ‘dearest’. Nor will I _be a dear_ and fetch your drink and slippers for you.” She couldn’t believe he had settled into _her_ office, into _her_ life, and expected her to be a replacement wife. “You have your own office now,” she snarled, pointing at the adjoining suite door near her own chamber. “Use it!” The slamming of her chamber doors reverberated throughout the entire office. 

“It’s a wonder Mother never hexed your bollocks off,” Draco mused as he helped his father to his feet. “Or maybe she did, and that’s why I have no siblings.”

Lucius cuffed him about the ear. “Impertinent brat,” he growled, then sucked on the tips of his finger with a moue of disgust. “I was just a bit muddled. You know how I get when I... ”

Draco patted his shoulder. He was one of the few people who witnessed the vulnerabilities that Lucius almost never let anyone see. Granger saw Lucius as a man who was trying to control her by insinuating himself into her life, to wrest power away from her in tiny increments and subtleties. Draco saw his father as he once had been: proud of the work he was doing, content with his surroundings, and most of all, loved by the people around him. 

The younger Malfoy hoped Granger would come to see that it wasn’t the Minister Lucius had set out to change. It was himself.


	4. Chapter 4

Staring out of the diamond-pane window of his study, Lucius recalled the events that had happened in the past month, since the small misunderstanding with Hermione. 

He supposed he hadn’t really blamed her for her reaction to his behaviour, but being a pure-blood well-ingrained in his ways, he had automatically reverted to manners that he usually reserved for home, for someone he felt cared for him, maybe even loved him. He snorted at that thought. More fool him, for believing the isolated witch could feel anything beyond social obligation towards him. 

She often crossed his mind, her shiny chestnut locks and her dark-brown eyes with a hint of amber tingeing the irises, which trusted him fully, even if it was just that one time. Oh, she trusted him with the Ministry’s finances or with anything that had to do with money in general, but her heart? He had only glimpsed that once, in that precious moment of vulnerability, and he craved more of it. But since his _faux pas_ , she had relegated him to the position of employee... and nothing else. 

She had refused to listen to him, to his explanation concerning his conduct. Even Draco had tried to clarify his father’s actions, but she’d seen it all as a way for them to control her, to seize the power she had so carefully built up in the past two years. And so a battle had ensued for her attention, with Lucius renewing his efforts daily. 

He had used every opportunity to place his hand on the small of her back—when she would let him get close enough—and guide her anywhere, or he would place her hand on his forearm to lead her to a seat during a financial meeting. She would immediately shake him off, although she refrained from doing so in front of dignitaries, clients, or constituents. He even found himself twirling a loose curl of her hair right in the middle of discussing the declining market value of property near Knockturn Alley with the Gringotts board. Thank Circe she didn’t react other than to casually swot at his hand as if he were an annoying fly, but the goblins saw it differently. That had been a mess he never wished to revisit. Trying to convince the miserly little imps that he cared for the Minister and had no interest in taking over her position had taken a week of lining their banks vaults with precious valuables, Galleons and a few Dark texts he no longer had any use for. 

Things came to a head when Lupin was cleared to return to the ministry as Hermione’s aide and he, Lucius Malfoy, was shunted off to one side. The difference this time was that the werewolf did not have that ridiculous smug look about him when it came to Hermione’s interaction with Lucius. He was also less suspicious of the blond and even somewhat sympathetic, regarding the awkward situation the haughty Slytherin had found himself in. Apparently, a month spent in the presence of Severus Snape had curtailed Lupin’s instincts a great deal. Lucius had an inkling of why, if the small smiles he happened to glimpse on the sandy-haired wizard were anything to go by.

Instead of being faced with indifference—no Malfoy could tolerate that for any amount of time—Lucius removed himself from Hermione’s office and proceeded to conduct his work from the manor, as he did with most of his other tasks. That way, he neither had to witness the preferential treatment she showed Lupin, nor suffer her constant presence, restricted as he was in his ability to show her affection.

He soon reverted to his old ways from before he had first approached the Minister: working late hours, avoiding social engagements and caught staring out the window more often than not by Draco. Of course, he was scolded by his son for moping again, but he couldn’t find it within himself to care.

Grey clouds moved across the skies, and Lucius watched as crystals of snow began pelting the glass he stood before, mirroring his mood. He never realised that a tear had started creeping down his face until it hit his upper lip, and he inhaled deeply. 

Damn, he missed her.

~*~

“I’d like an appointment.”

Remus gave Draco a dubious look. “I don’t know if she’ll see you presently.” He checked the appointment ledger anyway.

“I don’t really care.” Malfoy perched on one of the leather divan’s opposite the wolf. “I can wait.”

Sighing heavily, Lupin returned to his transcription. “She’s at lunch right now.”

As if on cue, Hermione entered the office while shrugging off her robe. “If I have to listen to Merryweather describe the mating habits of Erklings one more time, I think I’ll—”

“Minister,” Draco drawled as he stood. “I need to speak with you.”

Hermione’s expression immediately became distant. “About what?” 

Draco glanced at Remus. “Alone.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine,” she muttered, adding under her breath, “Like father like son.”

When the door closed behind them, Draco started on her. “You really are a piece of work, you know that?”

Crossing her arms, she glared at him. “Mind your tone, Malfoy!”

“My tone? I’m telling you you’re a frigid bitch, and you’re worrying about my tone?” He shook his head in disbelief. “Weasley was right about one thing: you seriously need to sort out your priorities.”

Hermione didn’t question his accusation. “Was that all?”

“You’re not even going to defend yourself? Do you even realise what you’ve done to him?” Draco was yelling at her now, completely exasperated at her reaction to the whole situation.

What _she’d_ done to _him_? How could she possibly have done _anything_ to the great Lucius Malfoy? He was impenetrable—an icon of pure-blood wizardry. Even though she was the first female Minister of Magic, she was still just a Muggle-born witch. “He’ll find a mistress of some sort,” she assured Draco, though her words lacked conviction.

Draco had never wanted to hex someone as much as he did Granger in that moment. “If my father wanted _some mistress_ don’t you think he would’ve taken up with one before?” He continued, not letting her answer. “No, he wanted a companion—someone who had a brain and not a sycophant, someone whom he could come to care for and love, someone just as powerful as he is.” He sneered and gave her a disdainful look. “It would seem he was wrong on all counts, to try and find those things with you.”

For the first time in quite a few years, tears welled in Hermione’s eyes. Early on in her career, when she had decided she wanted to run for Minister one day, she had also decided to keep her heart protected. She knew that, if she ventured into such territory, she could lose focus and ergo hurt her chances at achieving her goal. Her heart had remained hidden for so long, though, that she had begun to think it was easier to be alone than to be hurt. Now she wasn’t so sure. Longing to have happiness like Harry and Ginny, or Ron and Susan had made her wonder what her life could have been like if she had chosen a less glorious path. Not that she would be prepared to give up all that she had accomplished so far, for there was much that she still intended to accomplish while in office, but every time she looked around her there was no one else there to share in her success. Of course she had her friends, would always have them and care for them, but in the dark of night, when she clutched her pillow in search of warmth and love, she always had an empty ache that refused to be assuaged.

No one had ever captured her attention like Lucius Malfoy. From a young age, she had always seen him as an imposing figure, especially after the war, when his family had dusted off the ashes much like a phoenix and soared again—at least until Narcissa had passed away. Then Lucius had seemed to falter, as if he had been dealt one blow too many. She knew Draco had repeatedly tried to keep his father in the social scene, attempting to lure the man from his self-imposed sulk. When Lucius had presented himself to her two months ago, she’d thought he was there at the behest of his son. Now, she wondered if it hadn’t been something entirely different. Had he really been trying to shake the moroseness that had become commonplace in his life, or was his intent towards her subversive? 

If she miscalculated, she could lose everything. If she took a chance... Did she want to look in the mirror ten years from now—or even five—and wonder why she had been afraid? The tears finally slipped down her cheeks, and she wiped them away with the back of her hand. 

“He wasn’t wrong,” she whispered. 

Draco’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. She supposed he had been mentally prepared for a fight when he’d entered her office. “And why is that?” he asked.

She smiled tremulously. “Because I found those things in _him_.”

Arching a brow, in much the same manner as Lucius, Draco smirked. “I think you’ve been a little remiss in telling him so, don’t you?”

She nodded, cleared her throat and retrieved her robe. “He’s at the manor?”

Opening the door, Draco motioned for her to precede him. “Last I checked.”

“Remus, cancel the rest of my appointments today,” she called to her aide as she headed out of the office.

“But—”

“Don’t worry, Lupin,” Draco said. “She’ll be back... eventually.” 

“Malfoys,” Remus muttered in disgust.

~*~

Lucius let the soothing water cascade over his taut shoulders, hoping it would help ease the ache that had been building there over the past few days. He leaned his forehead against the blue and white marble wall and tried to will away his thoughts. It did no good, not when she invaded his senses on a constant basis, even when she wasn’t around. Her scent surrounded one of his finer robes, so he refused to have it cleaned. He would close his eyes and Hermione would flit across his mind’s eye. At night, he imagined her soft and delicate hands traversing his body...

Much like they were at this moment.

He dared not open his eyes, fearing that her presence was another fevered dream. When he felt her tentative strokes along his hip, he clamped his hand down on her wrist to stop her exploration and turned around slowly to face her, his fathomless eyes boring into hers. He didn’t question how she’d ended up in his bathroom of all places, but figured his son had something to do with it. Meddlesome boy. But she was here now, in all her naked glory, and he revelled in the way her nipples puckered under the spray of water that drenched both of them.

Knowing he had nothing to lose, he guided her hand to his now engorged cock and wrapped her fingers around it. Releasing her, he waited for her reaction.

Hermione’s eyes grew soft and finally closed, as she tightened her grip on his hard length. He still wanted her; he hadn’t turned her away. He had every right to, especially after the way she had treated him. But he didn’t. And it made all the difference.

She gave him a tentative stroke, which had him whimpering. Her eyes now open, his gaze never left hers, as she pumped his cock and smiled in a slow and sexy way, hoping it looked like a blatant invitation. 

Lucius’ body tightened in anticipation at what she was suggesting. He closed his long fingers around hers and increased the pressure to his liking to show her what he enjoyed, their combined hands pumping his shaft while her thumb slipped over his tumescent head. His eyes were molten with heat, anticipation obviously curling throughout his entire being. He let go of his shaft long enough to reach out and caress her hip. 

Her intake of breath from his touch had him kneeling before her and burying his face in the indentation of her hipbone, to softly nip the sweet skin there. “Beautiful,” he whispered. 

Closing her eyes, she let her head fall back from the exquisite emotions that were surging through her. Had he been this way with his wife? This tender? Her heart threatened to beat right out of her chest; she was so overcome. Threading her fingers through his platinum locks, she swore she heard him purr. She didn’t have a chance to listen again, because he stood and pulled away, letting the water sluice down his magnificent abs, his jutting masculinity bobbing and waiting for her attention.

They were now skin to skin, and she’d never felt more alive in her life. This was what she had been missing: the connection, the surety of the other to be there in times of need, of love and warmth. It was a heady thing, this epiphany. 

Lucius waited for Hermione to make the first move, because this time would be all her doing. The next time, however, would be all his… as would the one after that. It did shock him, though, when she lightly touched his sac, caressing and rolling his balls gently in her hands. 

Feeling the tremor that ran through him at her ministrations, she smiled seductively. Kneeling down, she moved her fingertips languidly over his sculpted thighs. Looking up at his face to make sure he was watching her, she stuck out her tongue and slowly caressed his velvety head, dipping into the weeping slit.

Her breath was warm and tempting along his heavy shaft. “Hermione,” he rasped, his stomach muscles clenching when her mouth closed around him tight and moist. Needing to do something with his hands, he caught her hair in his fists and dragged her even closer to him. He revelled in the feel of her fingers digging into his arse as she tried to draw him in deeper. Her pert breasts bouncing against his thighs heightened the pleasure she was already giving him. 

Lucius knew it was time to stop her ministrations when she began swallowing around his hot staff, causing him to grit his teeth in order to not spill himself like a teenager. He pulled her head back, and she pouted at the interruption. Oh Merlin, those lips… those lips she always chewed on when she was thinking or nervous. He pressed a finger to her mouth and pulled her to a standing position, both of them panting with desire.

He caressed her red cheeks and then slanted his mouth over hers in a passion-fuelled duel. Breaking away so they could catch their breath, he grasped her face between his hands and looked deep into her eyes. 

“Care for me,” he pleaded. He wanted her heart and nothing less.

Tears once again filled her eyes, and her bottom lip quivered as she nuzzled into his palm. She didn’t need to say any words; she nodded her head vigorously, wrapping her arms around him in a tight embrace. 

He closed his eyes in relief while he pressed kisses on her damp skin, but startled when he felt Hermione’s fingers wrap around his cock once more. Turning his face to her, he saw the challenge in her eyes and gave her that deliciously wicked smile. It made her melt, and she nearly went limp in his arms—the perfect opportunity for him to explore her creamy lushness.

His mouth travelled down her throat, suckling and leaving love nips along the way. They tingled, and she went rigid with passion, clenching her hands in his hair when he latched onto her shoulder. Then his mouth was on her breast, his tongue circling one puckered nipple.

She was totally lost.

She felt so small under his large palms, her skin warm and slick. He explored her everywhere, his fingers finally finding her wet, hot centre. He pushed one digit inside her quim, watching her eyes while her body responded with a fresh wave of liquid desire. Adding a second finger, he scraped her breast with his teeth, laving the soft flesh. He could feel her muscles start to clench around him, velvet and hot. When she screamed his name in release, he nearly came himself as he watched her face contort with sweet agony. 

Clutching at Lucius, she spun out of control, a terrible and fabulous ride that went on for what seemed like forever. She panted in exhaustion and laid her head on his shoulder.

“Thank you,” he heard her whisper and he smiled like any self-assured man would. Pulling her closer, he wrapped his hands around her hips, and lifted her. She squirmed somewhat when her back hit the cool marble wall, but soon relaxed when he guided her legs around his trim waist. 

“Want you, Hermione,” he whispered urgently in the crux of her neck. “And I intend to keep you.”

She nuzzled his cheek. “Care for me,” she repeated his heartfelt words.

He stared at this wonderful woman. His witch. “Always,” he ground out, before pressing against her, hard and thick, seeking entrance to her core. He pushed aggressively, causing her body to open to him, and then he sheathed himself fully in her burning heat. 

The feeling was marvellous; hot velvet clutched at him, tightening around his thick cock. The friction was almost unbearable. He needed to go slowly this once, to stave off any untimely release, but that was easier said than done. 

“Look at me,” he rasped, as he buried himself slowly within her depths.

Focusing, Hermione gazed longingly into his beautiful grey intensity. Each thrust caused them both to widen their eyes in ultimate comprehension. This went beyond caring. It went beyond even liking or trusting one another. It bordered on an emotion that both parties refused to name at the moment. As Lucius’ thrusts increased, so too did the passion that would bind them together. 

Hermione’s muscles tightened in anticipation each time he drove into her willing body. “Lucius,” she moaned, her nails digging into his shoulders. “Please!”

Kissing her savagely, he leaned her up against the marble for better leverage while his hips continued to piston at a frenzied pace. Sensing her imminent release, he nuzzled her, biting down on her shoulder and leaving a sizeable mark.

They both screamed in completion, shuddering around one another until they stood panting, finally replete with a sense of peace neither had known before. When Lucius gently let her legs slip from his waist, they looked at each other, smiling. 

Hermione had tears that emerged from the passionate encounter, so he wiped them away and pressed his lips to her forehead. “One of these days we’ll have to try that in a bed,” he murmured.

She hummed her agreement. “Eventually.”

“Am I forgiven?” He grazed her fiery cheek with his knuckles.

She leaned into his caress. “Am I?” 

In response, he cupped her face and gave her a languid kiss. “Does that answer your question?”

Giving him a smile that rivalled his own wicked smirk, she nodded. “Have dinner with me.”

His laughter echoed off the walls. “Bossy wench.” He slapped her arse for good measure.

“You have no idea.” 

“Oh, I intend to find out,” he promised, backing her up against the wall again.

And he did… many times over.


End file.
